


The Burning Red

by PrincessTurk



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Character Death, Depression, M/M, Sad, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 20:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20123644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessTurk/pseuds/PrincessTurk
Summary: Tifa narrative; her thoughts about Cloud's death and her new understanding of what caused him to take his own life. Rated M for the overall theme. Zack/Cloud mentioned, but no real Yaoi. In loving memory of JBS.





	The Burning Red

**Author's Note:**

> *Published on FFnet on May 19, 2010.
> 
> Told from Tifa's point of view. / This story is dedicated to my friend, Joe, who took his life on September 13th, 2007. In a way, writing this story has helped me release some of the pain I still feel from losing him, though it will never completely leave me. The story title comes from the song "The Burning Red" by a band called Machinehead. Please do give it a listen or at least read the lyrics.

I should have seen the signs, but I didn't. Or maybe I did.

Sure, there were many times that he told me that he was fine, but I knew by the sound of his voice that he wasn't. I could see the light in his eyes slowly fade out whenever I happened to slip and mention Zack's name in front of him. I was too careless on many occasions, forgetting about little things like replacing the dying flowers in the vase he kept on his desk in honor of Zack. But things like that, they were big things to him.

I watched him slowly spiral down. He was never one to smile a lot, but after two years had passed, all signs of fleeting smiles completely disappeared. He was turning into a cold, empty shell of a human being right in front of my face - and I didn't see it.

In hindsight, I _did_ see the signs.

"Cloud," I said to him one day while closing down the bar for the night. He was sitting on a stool at the front counter, his head bowed with drunkenness. "Maybe it's time for you to come upstairs. I'll help you into bed. Or, we could just sit on the couch and talk for a while. Marlene and Denzel are asleep… I could make you a cup of tea?" The words spilled from my mouth. I was rambling, and I knew it. He looked up at me, expressionless, and said, "Whatever."

I helped him up the stairs after turning off the lights in the bar, and we ended up sitting at our small kitchen table with the tea I had suggested. He loaded his down with plenty of honey but didn't drink it. He just stared into the steaming liquid and stayed silent.

I ended up going to bed, leaving him at the table alone. Looking back, had I really wanted to, I could have stayed with him and made sure he made it safely to bed. But I didn't.

The sunlight fell directly over my face the next morning when I woke up. Marlene and Denzel had gone to school already. I eased myself out of bed and padded quietly down the hallway in my socks. I remember the socks because they were my favorite ones: fluffy, white socks with kittens embroidered on the sides. The house was eerily quiet as I made my way to the kitchen and saw Cloud's cup of tea, still in the same spot that it had been in the night before. A drizzle of honey gleamed in the sun, glowing beautifully. It reminded me of the color of my dead mother's hair.

I remember shaking my head, rather annoyed that he had left the cup unwashed and hadn't even bothered to clean up the honey. Sure, we were good friends, but did he think I was his maid, too? I sighed and washed the cup, putting it in the cupboard next to the cup I had used the night before. I wiped up the honey and rinsed out the rag in the sink with cold water.

I wondered where he was. He had taken to disappearing lately, usually riding like hell through dusty wastelands on his beloved motorcycle, Fenrir. More often than not, he came home dirty and stinking of sweat, his eyes rimmed with red.

We had grown up together, and I always wanted to be his wife. I gave him attention and tried to express my love to him in the best ways that I knew how to, but it was never enough. He always loved Zack, and I could do nothing to change that. His heart was set. When Zack died, I saw Cloud die as well. It was as if his soul had left his body.

Eating a quick breakfast of buttered toast and strawberry jam, I sat quietly and read through the Midgar Times, my eyes scanning the pages for interesting news. I found nothing. Instead, I read my horoscope and smirked at the message: _Communication is important today, so make sure that the most important people in your life are available._ Alright, Cloud was missing, so today's horoscope would be null.

I threw away the paper and cleaned up my plate. I grabbed a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and chugged some straight from the bottle. I smiled. Cloud hated orange juice anyway, so he wouldn't care. I replaced the jug and closed the refrigerator door, then put my hands on my hips. How dare he disappear like this all the time? He knew it made me worry. Now I was just getting angry and fed up with his ways. On second thought, I grabbed the jug of orange juice again and made my way down the stairs to my bar. I would have a mixed drink. Who cared if it was seven in the morning? Cloud certainly didn't care what he did; why should I?

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the jug dropped from my hand and fell to the wooden floor. I felt the cold juice seeping through my socks, but I couldn't take my eyes off of Cloud. Was he…? Yes, he was.

I ran over to him and screamed his name. His arms dangled in front of him. His knees were bent on the bar stool and his body leaned haphazardly over the backside of it. Congealing blood dripped from his nose and mouth and continuously, silently, fell into a puddle of blood below him on the floor. My eyes connected with the cord around his neck and my brain processed the information much too quickly. I went into overload, alternately screaming his name and trying to find the phone to call for emergency assistance.

The phone was there on the wall where it always had been.

I punched the buttons on the phone like a mad woman and screamed for the ambulance to get here quickly. But I knew. I knew he wouldn't be coming back this time.

I knew years ago that he would never love me like he loved Zack. The proof was in the way the signs piled up in front of me, and I ignored them all.

I watched as paramedics cut him down from his death-cord. I gave them information that they needed. They took him away to the morgue. I called all of our friends; they showed up later in the day, bringing flowers and condolences. We held each other and cried. A few days later, we had his funeral. In his coffin, he held a photo of himself and Zack… the same one he had been clutching in his hands when I found him. We had to dress him in his old turtleneck shirt because of the bruises that had been left on his neck from the cord.

Now, as I sit here alone with a cup of tea, I drizzle honey on the table, purposely, to remind myself that little annoyances sometimes end up being the things you treasure and miss the most about people when they are gone from your life. I would give anything to see him come through the door and throw his dusty boots on the clean floor, not giving a shit about the mess I would have to clean up. I'd gladly get on my hands and knees again to scrub the floor if it would bring him back.

He'd take a bath and leave a wet towel on the floor that I'd have to pick up later. Or he would gulp down a meal in five seconds flat that had taken me hours to cook. That time when he got drunk and puked on our new armchair? I cleaned it up while he was passed out cold on the floor. In the morning, he would wake up and apologize, and I'd hear Fenrir roar to life… then he was off again on another adventure that I would never know anything about. He was like that. He didn't share many things, and he kept to himself.

It has been a few weeks since he left. It seems more like years. But I can understand how he felt now, because I'm in the same position.

Unfortunately, there's no one to clean up after me.


End file.
